World Series Hangover

Maybe it's less of a 'World Series hangover' and more of an 'I'm too old to stay up that late hangover.' Dragging ass, I believe, is the correct terminology for me today. Writing this is keeping me awake over the lunch break; if it weren't for this, I would surely be ugly sleeping on the couch in the work break room. You know the kind... one leg off the side, face smushed against the cushion, arm flailing over your head. The really ugly kind. It's a shame that the really ugly kind is also the really good kind. Naw'mean? Sigh..

Texts today from Stephen about how tired he is:
"I'm going to be dragging all day"
"Going to bed earlier. Much earlier"
"I'm ready to leave"
"I'm really dragging ass"
"I've had 4 cups" (of coffee)
"I'm still dying"
"My eyes are so heavy"
"Holy shit it got bad. Real bad" (the drowsiness)

So, incase you thought I was whiney about it, see above. It's only 12:20pm.

Remember last time I blogged and said I was going to post more? Noticing a trend here? I always say that. Thank goodness I left myself a list of things to write about.. not funny that I can't seem to remember why I was going to write about most of those things. Going to blame my job for the lack of brain function occurring in this little ole head of mine. One of those things on the list was John Mayer.

See.. they play some really weird shit on the radio here at work. By weird, I mean that none of it goes together or is what you'd think of listening to when you come to a place like this. If I had to guess, I bet Your Body is a Wonderland was playing in the lobby and made me think of this topic. Cause that would totally happen in this financial institution. Kinda like the time before that when Gives You Hell started playing here.. this place is not right, on so many levels. Back to John Mayer. The man is strange, he's got an issue in the girlfriend department and I hear that he's an asshole. That music, though. As Sarah would say, it'll make you feel all the feels. Much of the music I know from him is a few years old, I couldn't tell you what he's written lately but indulge yourself in the following:

Daughters
Half of My Heart
Why, Georgia
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room
Dreaming With a Broken Heart

The words, the voice. After listening to those while working on this.. I realized they are mostly just sad. Uh... hope you weren't already having a bad day? You're welcome for taking you back to the 2001-2006 era with those song selections.

"I wish I could show you, when you are lonely or in darkness, the astonishing light of your own being."

Holla!
A

Hey Kip Moore

Please, Kip Moore, for the love of all that is cheesy and holy, stop haunting me with your Hey Pretty Girl song. It's everywhere I am the last few days. I love it, don't get me wrong, but it's full of stuff that is not an option in my life right now. Give me some time.. I'll put you back on repeat.

Now, onto the rest of the biz-nass. It was really cute that I was all 'yeehaw, let's do this shit!' about having a blog three months ago.. for a whole three days. So, it's the beginning of October and still the high for today is 90 MF degrees. When I bought the tickets back in April? Was it April? I can't remember.. I definitely thought I'd be attending the Pearl Jam concert in a cute sweater and my favorite booties. No. Mother Nature said no way biotch. So, I brought a tank-top to change into after work. Suns out, guns out. Or something like that? For me it's more like, it's not freezing, shoulder tattoo exposed. Boom.

So, I've got a list of things I want to write about soon. Maybe jotting them down here will help me stick to that?

Nashville (er, the invite to Nashville)
John Mayer
Becoming a foodie
Rylen's potty training (because from an outside perspective, this could be hilarious material)
Stella's attempt at being a hunting pup
Hell on Wheels
Spinach, Artichoke & Turkey quesadillas

Sometimes my ADD kicks in and I just look at pictures instead of actually reading stuff, if that's you today (or always, coughstephencough), the following is for you:

I pretty much opened my photo album on my tele-phono-homo and randomly selected some shots (shots, shots, shots, shots...). My sad lunch of a Hot Pocket (not the kind Chelsea Handler refers to) and water is over, back to the grind for a few more hours. More rhyme and reason to the post next time.. you know, in three months if you're lucky.

I've got a hilarious Cosmo article to share next time. It's pure gold.

Over and out,
A